


When Our Days Overlap

by NHMoonshadow



Series: Detours [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHMoonshadow/pseuds/NHMoonshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sammy is suspicious, Gabe is being uncharacteristically responsible, Dean makes an attempt at being meaningful, and Cas clarifies the specifics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Our Days Overlap

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift-fic I did last year for LJ's Team-Free-Love's Secret Lover Exchange. This particular story was for Rubystandish, and was my first SPN fic. Seeing as I just got my account here up and running, it's only fair that I post here as well. Enjoy!

 

 

Sam stood in the safety of the front porch, long body hunched slightly forward and elbows propped up on the railing while he let a perpetually hot mug of coffee keep his hands warm. Bright hazel eyes observed this morning’s antics.

Their property was a warzone.

It had begun innocently enough, well okay, as innocently as you could get when it involved Gabriel. In celebration of the first heavy snow of the season Dean had dragged Castiel outside to teach him about snow angels and the proper way to make a fort in a snowdrift. 

Which of course led to Gabriel testing said fort’s “structural soundness”. 

The resulting snowball fight was nothing short of spectacular.

Currently, Dean and Cas were bunkered down in the remnants of their fort, like two soldiers in the middle of trench warfare. Gabriel being _Gabriel_ was blatantly cheating, creating mountains of fresh ammunition with a snap of his fingers, and disappearing every time a returning volley came close to their target.

Castiel, ever the tactician, began to track Gabriel’s movement with serious blue eyes. He waited until the older angel flitted off to avoid another one of Dean’s well aimed throws, and then launched one of his own. 

Sam nearly snorted into his coffee when Gabe reappeared just to receive a snowball to his face.

“Direct hit!” Dean leapt up with an enthusiastic fist pump before slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “Way to go Cas!” 

Even from this distance Sam could see the small smile curling on the angel’s face as his eyes caught his brother’s.

At the familiar scene, Sam couldn’t help but fight off a smile of his own.

Some things never changed.

Words were exchanged between the two and Dean gave Castiel’s shoulder one more friendly shake before turning away to trudge towards the house, completely missing the look following his departure.

Sam gave a soft sigh through his nose and shook his head slightly.

Then again some things really _should_.

“Next time we’re getting slaughtered by your Archangel ya mind lending a helping hand?” Dean complained, brushing the excess snow from his parka as he stomped his boots against the steps. “Unfair advantage much?”

He couldn’t help but grin down at his older brother. “I dunno Dean, you looked like you had it under control. After all, didn’t you say something about having ‘the ultimate fortress’?”

“Bitch.” 

“Jerk.”

Dean gave him a shove on his way into the house, jostling Sam hard enough that he lost his grip on his mug, sending it and it’s contents tumbling over the rail.         

“Dammit! _Dean!_ ” 

He grumbled and his only answer was a chuckle and a slammed door.

There was a quiet snap and a light touch at his elbow. Sam turned and found himself presented with a fresh mug. A snow covered Gabriel grinned up at him as he took the proffered cup, and let loose a low groan at the first sip. “Have I told you I love you?”      

“Oh Puh- _leeze_!” Gabe snorts, snapping up a mug of his own. Sam could smell chocolate and caramel wafting up from under a mountain of whip cream. “You only say that because I feed your caffeine addiction.” He took a large sip and gave a low satisfied hum before giving his free hand an odd little shake and tapped two fingers to Sam’s chest. “Before I forget, just so ya know, baby bro and I are gonna be scarce for a few days.”

Sam frowned. “Any reason in particular?”

“Just some neglected business. Making the rounds. If I don’t show my pretty face in Heaven once in a while, who knows what sort of things will crop up.”

 _That_ set off red flags in Sam’s mind. Even after all this time, Gabriel has avoided Heaven like the Plague since his and Castiel’s (in his case, _second_ ) reincarnation. For the most part he let Cas take the reins when it came to management, claiming that the younger angel was obviously doing something right. When things started to get unruly Gabriel would make an appearance, flexing his celestial muscles and essentially squashing civil unrest among the Host. But even then, that was only after Castiel pleaded for assistance as the situation became more than he could handle.

However, everything had been remarkably calm as of late, leaving Cas free for days at a time instead of a handful of hours spread over the course of a week.

And now Gabriel wanted to do a tour without his usual bitch-fit beforehand?

Sam didn’t buy it. 

“What did you do?”

“Me?” The Archangel was all wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Why would you think that I did anything?” 

Sam gave him a flat look. “Because you _always do something._ ” 

“Oh ye of little faith. Trust me on this one. This time? Not me.” He stretched up to pat Sam fondly on the cheek. “Don’t worry so much, Samsquatch. I promise nothing horrible is going to swoop down on you guys. You just sit back and relax and I’ll make sure we’ll be back in time for Dean’s big bash.” 

With a wink Gabriel breezed past him and into the house. 

 

 oOoOo

 

The next morning was just as quiet as Gabriel promised.

Which, of course, was why Sam didn’t trust it.

Given Gabriel’s nature (not to mention the centuries he spent as Loki), Sam couldn’t help but be suspicious, _especially_ this close to Dean’s birthday. Thankfully, ever since the Archangel waltzed back into their lives they’ve been spared the worst of his . . . well, special brand of assistance. But in no uncertain terms did that mean that they were immune to his pranks when the mood struck him. 

That, and he had a tendency to look for any excuse to party. This, of course came to a head back in that first year spent together without the fate of the world hanging over their heads. The Winchesters never made a big production out of holidays, birthdays included, normally acknowledging them with nothing more with a shared drink and the rare exchange of gifts. 

To say Gabriel was appalled was an understatement.

It was almost like he took their apathy towards holidays as a personal insult and since then had made it his personal mission to get the boys to celebrate properly. How he managed to get Castiel in on this mission was beyond him. After the first three instances of over-the-top festivities the four of them stuck up a compromise. Halloween was off limits, _period_ , Christmas and Thanksgiving remained a relatively quiet affair (though thanks to Gabriel those dinners remained fantastic), and in return the Angels were allowed to go all out on their birthdays. Now that they had a home base between hunts, this now included wall to wall decorations, balloons, confetti, streamers and just about everything else Gabriel deemed appropriate.

So, conspicuous and unnecessary absence this close to a Winchester birthday? Of course Sam was going to be suspicious.

Even still, he did his best to relax and just enjoy the silence and the fact that he had the whole house to himself. Dean had left earlier that morning, mentioned something about a supply run, and disappeared with the familiar roar of the Impala. 

Sam puttered around the house a bit before realizing there wasn’t a whole to do except read or search for their next hunt. Instead of either Sam decided on a long shower, reveling in the ample amounts of moving space and a truly unlimited supply of hot water.

By the time he finally emerged it was about lunchtime, and so he lumbered into the kitchen with the intent of making himself a sandwich.

Apparently at some point during his shower, Dean had returned. His back was to Sam as he was at the table, elbows planted wide as he tinkered with something.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Obviously startled, Dean flailed a bit before scrambling. Hands and arms moved quickly across the kitchen table to sweep the scattered items towards him, hastily covering them with yesterday’s newspaper. He coughed once, and tried again. “Ah, nothing! Just -” 

Curiosity piqued, Sam used his reach advantage to lean over and snatch away the ruffled paper. Dean chased after him with grabby hands, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough.

His eyebrows rose into his hairline at the items spread out before his brother. Tools were laid out haphazardly almost lost among wires and bits of scrap metal. From his vantage point Sam could see needle nose pliers, a dremel, fine-grain sandpaper and what looked suspiciously like- 

“Dude, is that a piece of the _Impala_?”

“What? No!”

But it was. There was no mistaking the black paint for anything else, Dean was as picky as he was meticulous when it came to that car, and there were only a few specific paints that were deemed worthy of his Baby.

Sam made a mental note to do a visual inspection of the vehicle later, just to see where exactly the piece had come from. It was obviously still a work in progress, but with the way Dean had cut and bent the metal it almost looked like a-

Oh. _Oh._

“You talked to Gabriel, didn’t you?” 

Dean flushed a bit and looked like he was gearing himself up for another round of denial, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“About time if you ask me.”

Dean’s jaw dropped a little. “‘ _About time_ ’? What the Hell, Sammy!”

Sam settled his lanky frame into the chair next to his brother. “Come on, Dean. Really? You can be dense, and stubborn, and have more trouble emoting than a _rock_ -”

“Hey!”

“But you’re not an idiot. And I’m not blind.” The younger Winchester gave a soft smile. “The two of you . . . that’s been a long time coming, a really long time. I don’t know about Gabriel, but I was beginning to wonder if you two were ever going to get your act together.”

Dean snorted. “You make it sound like bets were riding on us hooking up.” When Sam looked away too quickly his eyed narrowed. “You didn’t actually . . .”

Dean’s jaw fell open when no denial came.

“Seriously dude? You and pint-sized started a _betting pool_?”

Sam looked pointedly at the ceiling.

“Frickin’ unbelievable!” Clearly disgusted, Dean picked up his little project and glared at it.

“So . . . when you giving it to him?” Sam was blatantly changing the subject, but his brother let it go.

Dean turned the little piece of metal in his fingers. He gave a gruff cough. “Umm, day after tomorrow.”

 _January 24 th._

“Usually it’s customary to _receive_ presents on your birthday, not give them.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean rubbed his cheek with the back of one knuckle. Another cough. “It’s also a Thursday.” 

Sam blinked, totally floored. “Wow, that’s . . .”

 _That’s surprisingly romantic._

Seeing the broad grin slowly spreading across his little brother’s face, Dean scowled. “Shove it Sammy!”

“And you call _me_ a girl.”

 _“Shut up!”_

 

 oOoOo

 

Like Dean and Gabe had planned, the angels returned that Thursday.

What Dean _didn’t_ plan on was being yanked out of bed at six in the damned morning by an overly chipper Gabriel. “Rise ‘n shine Birthday Boy!”

The hunter groaned and buried himself deeper into his blankets. “Go away Gabe. It’s too damn early for this.” 

There was a tsk noise above him, and suddenly he was cold and exposed, his sleep pants doing little to keep him warm. Dean glared blearily at the Archangel, who had whisked away his blankets with all the flair of a magician. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” He grabbed Dean’s nearest foot and gave it a shake. “C’mon, get up. Sam and Cas are downstairs already. Did you have enough time to finish?”

 _That_ grabbed Dean’s attention, making him sit up and scrub his face with his hand. “Uh, yeah.”

“Awesome!” he clapped his hands together and gave them a quick rub before pointing at the hunter. “You. Get dressed and come have some breakfast. Later I’ll borrow Sam and we’ll be out of your hair for a bit. If you chicken out on me there will be absolutely no pie for you for the rest of your life.”

“Messing with a man’s pie, that’s low even for you.”

Gabriel smiled sweetly. “You better make sure you man up then, huh?” With that he popped out of the room, leaving Dean staring at the space he just vacated.

“Frickin’ Angels,” he muttered, rolling out of bed.

He scrounged around and pulled on clean clothes and ran his hand a couple of times through his short hair in a half hearted attempt to get it to lay properly. On his way out the door he stopped by the dresser, dug to the bottom of the top drawer and removed a carefully folded piece of cloth. Dean paused for a moment, feeling the weight in his hand.

Eyes closing for a moment, he took a deep steadying breath and pocketed it before trudging down the stairs to the kitchen.

The kitchen was in a bizarre state of controlled chaos. Dean stopped and leaned against the doorframe to watch. 

Sam and Gabe had taken over the kitchen, the two of them making a large breakfast complete with bacon, eggs, and three different kinds of pancakes. The two of them were bickering while they worked, shoving and elbowing each other out of their respective workspaces. Sam bumped the Archangel hard with his hip to grab the bag of chocolate chips that he was hoarding. Ever the mature one, Gabe grabbed a small handful of flour and chucked it in his face in retaliation. 

Cas was sitting at the kitchen table where he was safe from potential crossfire, his expression bordering between confusion and amusement.  

Dean fought a smile as he watched the group that had become his family.

After the Apocalypse had come to a close he had tried to keep his promise to Sammy, but even early on he knew he was unraveling at the seams. He loved Ben and Lisa was fantastic, but with Sam gone and Cas abruptly off the radar there was a void right in the middle of his life. 

Not even a week went by before he felt the first stirrings of restlessness began tugging at him, the calm and quiet of this type of life doing more to his nerves than any hunt ever could.

And then came the day Gabriel arrived at the door, with a worn Sam and Cas at his side, and Dean hadn’t looked back.

It took some getting used to at first, and Gabriel certainly took a _lot_ of getting used to, but Dean saw right from the beginning that the Archangel was going to be a permanent fixture in their lives. Sammy wouldn’t listen to a word saying otherwise.

Fortunately, the guy grew on him. Kinda like a fungus.

Of course Gabriel was the one to notice Dean first. He waves him in. “Finally! Sit down. Sam and I got this.” 

“Yeah, I totally see that,” he snarks, taking a seat across from Cas as he snagged a piece of bacon.

The Angel caught his eye and greeted him with a soft twitch of his lips. “Hello Dean, happy birthday.”

“Thanks Cas.”

Dean discreetly thumbed the cloth-wrapped trinket stashed in his pocket; it’s presence suddenly a lead weight, constantly reminding him that it was there. 

Monstrous platters were soon laid out and Dean took a fork and began stabbing at different stacks of pancakes to load his own plate. True to their newly established tradition, breakfast was loud and messy and everyone had at least two platefuls before it was all said and done.

All too soon Gabriel got up claiming that there was a bunch of stuff he needed to get done before the main event of the evening. He snapped the wrecked kitchen back to being spotless and then snagged Sam on his way out. Sam barely had enough time to grab his coat and scarf before he was whisked away with a wink and a smirk.

 _Son of a bitch!_ Dean hissed to himself. _And Sam says_ I _need lessons in subtlety!_

Cas sat there across from him, frowning at Gabriel’s sudden departure with the younger Winchester. After a long moment, he rose from his seat, mentioning something about a book he was translating for Sammy, and made to leave the kitchen.

“Cas, wait!” Dean flew from his seat and caught the Angel before he entered the hallway.

“Yes Dean?”

After several false starts Dean gave a low growl in frustration before digging roughly in his pockets and held out the contents stiffly towards Cas.

The Angel tilted his head at the offering, clearly confused. “What’s this?”

Dean cleared his throat. “It’s a present. You’ve had one of those before, right?” As Castiel continued his confused stare, Dean felt the first brush of nerves, holding his gift out more insistently. “Take it.” 

After cautiously accepting the gift Castiel unfolded the cloth delicately, slowly revealing it’s contents. He froze, his whole posture becoming rigid. 

Not knowing what the reaction meant, Dean inwardly panicked. He felt the sudden urge to snatch it back, to play it off somehow and claim that he maybe, _possibly_ , handed Cas the wrong thing. 

Paralyzed by his own indecision, the hunter took in a deep breath to try to calm his nerves.

The air punched out of him as blue, _blue_ eyes met his gaze and held it. They stayed there, searching, while something unidentifiable sparked behind them.

“Dean . . .” His voice was soft, barely more than a breath. Cas finally broke their eye contact to look down at what he had been given. With halting movements he raised his free hand to trace two fingers along the fine detailing.

It was, without a doubt, the most intricate thing Dean had ever made. Simply put, the thing was essentially a necklace with a sturdy steel chain. However, the pendant that dangled from it was so much more.  He had taken a small square of metal from the driver’s side door of his Baby and had spent three full days carefully manipulating it, sanding, scratching, bending, and polishing it until he was satisfied. And when he was finished he took the same paint he used on the Impala, and when the final coat dried he had gently buffered it until it shone just as brightly. The final result was a metallic feather, black as ebony and small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. 

“Dean,” Cas tried again, something like conflict lingering in his tone. “I need to make sure that you understand what you just gave me. What you are offering. I need you to know what it means for my kind.” 

“I do,” Dean assured, a little bit of confidence coming back. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, at least I think I do. Gabe explained as it well as Gabe explains _anything_ , and let me tell you. That? Probably one of the most _awkward_ and embarrassing conversations in my entire life, and I just know that bastard is gonna be hanging it over my head for _years_.” He looked away. “I know with you guys it’s supposed to be platonic, but it was the closest thing you guys have to a . . . well, I mean, uh . . .”

“It’s a promise.” Dean looked up to see Cas clasping the chain around his neck. Once fastened, he traced the chain till he touched the pendant and rested there, a small curl at the corner of his lips. His eyes met Dean’s, an odd expression on his face. “This came from the Impala.” 

“Well, yeah. I don’t know if you realized this man, but I don’t exactly have fluffy wings of my own to pluck. And given my issues with all things aircraft, she’s the closest I come to flying on my own.”

The small curl graduated to a full smile. His hand dropped again, this time to his tie, quickly and efficiently loosening it before moving on to the top button of his dress shirt.

Dean’s mouth went dry. “Um, Cas?”

“It’s a promise,” the Angel repeated, casually tugging his shirttails free from his pants. He turned his attention to the cuffs next. “It’s a promise to the recipient that, if accepted and reciprocated, the giver will be there for them, regardless of the need. Comfort. Companionship. It’s a promise that, no matter what befalls them, there will always be at least one person they can turn to without fear of judgment.”

Dean stood rooted to the spot as Cas shrugged out of the shirt completely, the material slipping away to puddle on the floor. The plains of exposed skin momentarily distracted him until his eyes were drawn to the large shadows swirling into existence over the Angel’s shoulders. The shadows thickened and then consolidated into a pair of honest to God _wings_ that spread across most of the room. The feathers were an almost translucent black, and the way they reflected the light reminded the hunter of obsidian knives.

Dean was never a poetic man, but even he could see the vision Cas was in that moment, bare from the waist up, pale skin broken only by the necklace and the wide spread of wings. The stark contrast of dark and light had his fingers itching to touch, but he didn’t dare.

“It’s our greatest sign of trust.”

One of those great wings shifted and curved forward. The hunter stared as Castiel carded a hand through the feathers, gave a sharp twist of his wrist and pulled a single one free. He stepped closer to Dean, right into his personal space, and held the feather up in offering. “Do you understand?” 

Mouth still dry, Dean swallowed hard. “I- _yeah,_ yeah I understand.” Carefully, reverently, Dean accepted the feather. For it’s stone-like appearance, it was incredibly soft and seemed to radiate it’s own warmth.

“Good.”

Then in a blink of an eye, Castiel had latched onto the front of Dean’s shirt and had reeled him into a rather bruising kiss. It was hot and demanding, and it took Dean a moment to get his wits together before he was giving as good as he got. It was a wet tangle of lips and teeth and tongues, pressing and teasing more and more of a reaction out of each other.

Careful to keep from damaging his gift, Dean draped an arm behind Cas’ neck to keep him anchored firmly in place. His free hand drifted up along the Angel’s torso, knuckles ghosting along the toned stomach to rest lightly over the pendant Dean had made. When the hunter pressed a little more firmly, he could feel the beating of the vessel’s heart pounding beneath his palm.

Feeling the steady rhythm he found there seemed to settle something within himself, calming him.

Dean broke away first, panting, touching his forehead briefly to Castiel’s before letting it drop to his bare shoulder.

Cas released his grip on his shirt, his hands falling to Dean’s waist, fingers hooking the belt loops and pulling him even closer. His wings shifted and arched forward, surrounding the couple in a dark curtain of feathers. Chapped lips brushed along the shell of Dean’s ear, and when the Angel spoke it was a low rumble. “I find it fascinating that you chose to do this today.”

Dean huffed into his neck. “Yeah, well. It’s not like you have a birthday, but you _are_ the Angel of Thursday, and today. . .” He trailed off, not knowing how to complete his thought.

If Dean had lifted his eyes he would have seen Castiel light up with complete understanding. Because, today? 

Today was _theirs._

 

FIN.


End file.
